


The Christmas Card

by irisheyes_77



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisheyes_77/pseuds/irisheyes_77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always thinks of them on Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Card

December 24, 2007

11:46 pm

Falls Church, VA

 

 

            He always thought of them on Christmas.

            Sighing, he rolled over in the bed, careful not to wake the woman sleeping soundly next to him. Closing his eyes, he tried to will himself to sleep, failing miserably. After a moment he stood, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before heading down into the kitchen.

            Carefully stepping over the scattered remains of a Barbie party at the foot of the stairs, he went to the kitchen and poured some milk into a mug, placing it in the microwave. Listening to the hum of the microwave and the quiet rumbling of the heater, he sat at the table and picked up the Christmas card he had left there earlier.

            He had recognized her handwriting immediately, the loopy J of his first name bringing back a flood of memories. How many times had he seen that familiar handwriting? How long had it been since he’d seen it? Sighing, he opened the card and read the brief note.

            ‘Hear you are well. Our best to you and Monica and your family.’

            No mentions of William, aliens, colonization. Then again, what had he really expected in a Christmas card?

            The microwave dinged, sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness of the dark. Taking his warm milk out of the microwave, he leaned against the back door, watching as snow covered the backyard in a pristine white blanket.

            It wasn’t the first card he’d received from them over the years. The first one had been three years ago, postmarked from California. The year after that, Massachusetts. This year it had been West Virginia, although this time there had been a return address; now that things had been settled, records expunged, it was safe for them to come out of hiding.

            He wondered about them. Sometimes at work he’d run across something unusual and immediately want to call her, knowing she would find it both interesting and humorous. Then he’d push the thought aside, waiting until he was tucked in bed beside his wife to talk about it.

            Always the believer, Monica would smile and tell him it meant it was time to find them, a connection between them that bridged time and space. He would chuckle and call it a coincidence, bridging the time and space between him and Monica to kiss her, make love to her. Deep down he thought she might be right, although he’d never tell her because he’d never hear the end of it.

            A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and he smiled, putting his free arm around her and pulling her close.

            “Two little girls will be up soon.” Monica’s sleepy voice was muffled against his shirt.

            “I told them they couldn’t get out of bed until the sun was up,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

            “Smart man.” She sighed. “I wonder how they are.”

            He shrugged. “Can’t be too bad if they’re sendin’ out Christmas cards.”

            “Guess not. Would be nice to see them, though.”

            John knew Monica missed her friendship with Scully. He had heard through the grapevine that the enigmatic Dr. Scully was still a bit of a loner, and he wondered whether she missed Monica and her easy friendship.

            Monica shifted in his embrace, glancing at the clock. “It’s officially Christmas.”

            “You’re worse than the girls,” he chuckled.

            Smiling, she took his hand and led him to the living room, pushing him back onto the couch with a gentle shove. “I have a gift I wanted to give to you before the kids got up.”

            He set his mug of warm milk down on the coffee table and gave her a smirk. “In the living room, Mon? We’ll wake the girls. Besides, sex on the couch is hard on my back.”

            “That’s not what you said last time,” she replied with a smirk of her own, handing him a long, thin box. “Your exact words were, I believe, ‘Holy shit Mon, I hope this thing is Scotchgarded.’”

            Remembering that the reason for those words involved his lovely wife, a can of whipped cream, and a strategically placed cherry, he chuckled. “You’re never gonna let me forget that.”

            “Nope.” She sat down next to him, her eyes expectant. “Well, open it.”

            He quickly unwrapped it and opened the box, a grin spreading over his face. “Jeez, again?”

            Monica smiled. “Well, we do kind of like doing what causes this.”

            John looked back down at the positive pregnancy test sitting in the tissue paper. “Looks like we’ll be gettin’ that bigger house you’ve been naggin’ me about.” With a sigh, he sat back and pulled Monica into his arms. “So, when is this kid arriving?”

            “Middle of July.”

            “July’s good. We don’t have a summer birthday yet.” He brushed his hand through her hair. “You tell anyone else?”

            “Just the doctor. I figured we could tell the girls and my parents when they’re here for Three Kings.” Monica looked up at him, her hazel eyes shining in the dim light. “Are you okay with this?”

            “Yeah,” he replied, leaning down and kissing her. “Another little girl who looks like her mama? Who wouldn’t want that?”

            Monica smiled. “I think this one might just be a boy…a little boy with blue eyes and his daddy’s ears.” Laughing, she tugged on one of his ears. “Besides, the last thing this house needs is more estrogen.” She yawned. “We should get to bed, the girls will be up before we know it.”

            John stood, pulling Monica up and into an embrace. “Don’t you want your Christmas gift?”

            With a coy smile, she slid her hands into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Oh, I can think of one gift you can give me tonight.”

            “Already? Hell Mon, usually your libido doesn’t kick in until the second trimester,” he laughed as she pulled him up the stairs to their bedroom.

            As he slid into bed with his wife, he hoped that wherever Mulder and Scully were, that they had found as much happiness as he had.

 

 


End file.
